


modern relationships in the information age

by oryx



Category: Denji Sentai Megaranger
Genre: Emotional Awkwardness, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, just a lot of awkwardness in general really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: Yusaku gains a new coworker. (It might as well be a crisis.)





	modern relationships in the information age

**Author's Note:**

> when it's been 19 yrs!! since a show ended and still no one has provided the "nerds in love" content you desperately crave: it's a good day to do what has to be done by me.jpg

It’s not as if it bothers him.  
   
It’s just noticeable, is all – the way he gets an e-mail at least once a week from Chisato, from Kenta, from Miku. Even Shun from time to time, who occasionally forwards him some dry and unbearably nerdy engineering-related jokes that must be making the rounds with the students in his lab.  
   
And yet, from Koichiro: radio silence.  
   
None of the others even mention him, in a way that feels suspiciously like a purposeful omission, like they’ve been sworn not to speak of whatever it is he’s up to. Yusaku isn’t about to outright _ask_ , of course – it’s not as if he’s worried about that weird kid. It’s just. Strange. Off-putting, to be completely shut out by someone you thought you were on good enough terms with. Sometimes he sits there with a blank e-mail open, Koichiro’s address in the “send to” line, the cursor blinking again and again as he tries to summon up something to say.  
   
But he always simply exits out, in the end. If Koichiro doesn’t want him to know, then that’s that, isn’t it?  
   
He wonders why that thought makes it feel like something just shriveled and died in the pit of his stomach.  
   
And most of all he wonders how he didn’t see this coming, when he stumbles half-awake into a staff meeting one morning to find Koichiro beaming back at him. He has to hastily scramble so as to not lose his grip on his coffee mug, Nishida from HR leveling him with a disapproving stare.  
   
“We have some new recruits this week,” Kubota is saying, flipping through the personnel files of the three bright-eyed kids in crisp INET uniforms. “Please be kind to them and instruct them well on their first few days on the job. Sakaki here will be joining Communications. Oozora will be replacing the recently retired Kondo-san in Mechanics. And Endo-kun,” here he gives Koichiro a small, fond smile, “will be going to Research and Development.”  
   
Yusaku blinks. Exhales. Closes his eyes with a grim sort of slowness, like a man accepting his death.  
   
( _did you know about this???_ he sends to Chisato, marking the e-mail “Urgent” so that it will be delivered within the hour instead of being added to the usual plodding correspondence queue. Kubota will give him hell for it later, but that’s no different than any other day of his life.  
   
She replies an hour and a half later with no words at all, just one of those animated .gifs of a cartoon face winking playfully.  
   
He resolves to not talk to her for a while.)  
   
  
   
  
   
“Of course, at first I wasn’t sure why I should keep it a secret from you,” Koichiro is saying. “Me attending the INET enrollment program, I mean. But Kubota-san told me you loved surprises.”  
   
“Did he now,” Yusaku says flatly. He’s leaning his chin on his hand, watching as Koichiro painstakingly dismantles and eats a sandwich with a fork and knife. There’s hardly anyone else in the commissary at this hour, for which Yusaku is incredibly grateful.  
   
“He says you and the R &D department are having trouble sticking to a proper work schedule,” Koichiro continues, a gleam in his eye. “So you’re in luck, because scheduling happens to be one of my top five skills.”  
   
“Oh? Number one is what, then? Never getting a date?”  
   
Koichiro frowns at him in such a way that it looks more like a pout, and Yusaku wonders why in the hell his first thought is ‘ _cute_.’ “Hayakawa-san, please be serious. This is the workplace, after all. Once we’ve gotten your – our – department back on track, _then_ you can make jokes.”  
   
“…You drive a hard bargain,” Yusaku mutters, and reaches out to swipe his fruit cup off his tray just to spite him.  
   
  
   
  
   
This would all be easier to deal with if the rest of his subordinates were on his side. But they are – as he begins to learn over the week that follows – a bunch of goddamn traitors, welcoming the concept of “timetables” and “order” with far more enthusiasm than anyone rightly should. He’s pretty sure he saw actual tears of relief in Haibara’s eyes upon receiving her data files with adequate time to spare before the deadline.  
   
They love Koichiro. They share a look of amazement among themselves every time Yusaku begrudgingly listens to his instructions of “please stop playing Minesweeper and do your work, Hayakawa-san.” He overheard Yamano call him “Kou-chan” the other day. He’s pretty sure they’ve already invited him to one of their end-of-shift drinking parties.  
   
It’s absolutely awful.  
   
“To be honest I’m not really understanding the problem here,” Chisato says, staring at him blankly, the movement of her mouth lagging behind her audio on the staticky video chat screen. “Why’re you so put-off about working with him? It can’t just be the schedules, right? Because you know you could just ignore him if you really wanted.”  
   
“Listen, that’s – ” He makes a frustrated noise as he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, alright?”  
   
Chisato raises an eyebrow.  
   
Yusaku opens his mouth and then closes it again. His fingers are drumming out a restless rhythm against his thigh as he slumps back in his seat. “I just,” he says finally, his voice coming out petulant and small, “don’t like it. Him being here. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”  
   
“About what?”  
   
“About me! I’m a cool, suave, interesting guy, Chisato. That’s just who I am as a person.” (He pretends not to notice the delayed stare of incredulity she gives him.) “Just… you wouldn’t really know it, working here. It’s different from being MegaSilver.” He averts his eyes from the screen, feeling an awkward frown tugging at his mouth. “I don’t want him to think of me as a – a second-rate engineer who can’t concentrate on anything. Who can’t make a deadline unless someone supervises me. That’s not me, that’s – ”  
   
He breaks off, exhaling slowly and dragging a tired hand across his face.  
   
“Forget it,” he mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”  
   
Chisato simply looks at him for a long moment before sighing. “You realize,” she says, “that this is Koichiro we’re talking about? He’s never been cool in his life. Not even once. I dunno if he even understands the concept.”  
   
Yusaku can feel his brow knit together as he ponders this. She does have a point.  
   
“And have you considered _asking_ him why he chose to come to INET? He had a lot of other options, y’know. He’s smart, he’s capable. He was the model student all through high school. He could’ve gone just about anywhere. But he went to the INET Academy instead.”  
   
Yusaku narrows his eyes. “Are you saying _you_ know why?”  
   
“Maybe,” Chisato says with a shrug, an airy kind of self-satisfaction to her tone. “But I’m not about to do _all_ the work for you, idiot.”  
   
And at that she grins and waves a cheery goodbye to him just before the visual on the monitor cuts abruptly to black.  
   
  
  
  
   
Maybe it’s not very scientific to toss things up to “fate” or whatever, but it all still feels decidedly un-coincidental when he steps out of his room to find Koichiro making his way down the hallway towards him, his eyes barely visible over the two cardboard boxes he’s lugging along, clearly laboring beneath their weight.  
   
“What exactly are you doing?” Yusaku asks.  
   
“Oh, Hayakawa-san,” he says brightly. “I’m just taking these schematics down to Manufacturing.”  
   
“…You know that’s not your job, right? And your shift ended three hours ago?”  
   
“I’m a new employee, though!” Yusaku can hear the frown in Koichiro’s voice even if he can’t see it. “I have to do my best to help out the senior staff.”  
   
Yusaku casts his eyes up to the ceiling as if pleading for some kind of divine intervention here. “Fine, whatever,” he mutters. “Give me one of those.” He hefts one of the boxes into his arms and is unsurprised to find that it’s not heavy at all – maybe twenty pounds at most. This kid really was coasting on the strength of the MegaBlack suit.  
   
“Hey,” he says, a forced kind of casual as he jabs at the buttons in the elevator. “Why’d you take this job, anyway?”  
   
There is a moment of quiet, in which he can hear Koichiro hum thoughtfully. “I guess… because INET helped us out a lot? Kubota-san especially. Not like I feel I owe a debt or anything, just. It felt right, to come work here. It’s familiar. I already knew the infrastructure, and some of the people. And I wanted to work with you, Hayakawa-san.”  
   
Pulse jumping, Yusaku swivels around to look at him with wide eyes.  
   
“Everything you created for the Megarangers,” he continues, “I thought it was all so amazing. I thought it’d be a nice feeling – being able to help technology like that get made. Even if all I’m really good for is micromanaging. And,” here he smiles broadly, cheeks dimpling, “I just kind of wanted to be with you, admittedly.”  
   
The elevator _ding_ s, the doors sliding open, and Koichiro says “ah, here we are,” rearranging the box in his arms as he steps out, leaving Yusaku to stare after him with his mouth gone dry and the palms of his hands suddenly very clammy. He stands there long enough that the doors try to close on him, and his ankle gets caught between them as he stumbles, cursing, out into the hall.  
   
“What the hell does that mean,” he whispers under his breath, and hurries to catch up with Koichiro’s enthusiastic strides.  
   
  
  
  
   
That asshole Takeuchi in Manufacturing tells him he’s a lucky man, to have Koichiro in his department.  
   
“I can take him off your hands for you, if you’d like,” she offers, with her usual sly grin. “Could use someone with that kind of work ethic around here.”  
   
It’s not until minutes later that Yusaku realizes his biting “yeah, I don’t think so” was an uncharacteristically earnest response. He should’ve made a joke. _Why didn’t he make a joke._ He massages his temples tiredly as they step back into the elevator. This entire situation is throwing him off his A game.  
   
Koichiro moves to press the button for Yusaku’s floor, but he reaches out to block his hand without thinking.  
   
“Let’s… go to the observation deck instead,” he says, stilted and awkward. “Just for a bit. Unless you have more chores to do for other departments?”  
   
“Not at the moment, no,” Koichiro says, with a small, oblivious smile, and Yusaku shakes his head.  
   
As anticipated, the observation deck is all but empty. Nobody ever _really_ gets used to a view like that – the clustered stars against the velvety black, the sworled blue-green marble of Earth small enough to cover with your hand – but INET employees do tend to regard it as just part of the job after a while. And Koichiro has already seen things far more noteworthy than a stretch of outer space. Still, he steps up to the window and seems mesmerized for a moment by the planet below them. The station is orbiting close enough today to make out the vast patterns of cloud formations in the atmosphere.  
   
“Not feeling homesick already, are you?” Yusaku says.  
   
Koichiro shakes his head. “Not too much. Though,” and here his brows knit together, “I hope my cousin remembers to play shogi with our grandpa every week like he promised. Since I can’t anymore.”  
   
Yusaku feels a bit like screaming internally. God, this kid is just so _wholesome_.  
   
“What, just family? Not missing your girlfriend?”  
   
Koichiro laughs. “What are you talking about? Since when – ” He pauses, then, turning on his heel to glare at Yusaku through narrowed eyes. “Wait, how am I supposed to have a girlfriend when my number one skill is ‘never getting a date’?”  
   
Yusaku shoves his hands in his labcoat pockets and clears his throat. “C’mon, I was just messing with you. I’m sure you’re a… popular guy.”  
   
“I’m not,” he says, matter-of-fact. “But I already have someone I like, anyhow.”  
   
“What? Who?” Yusaku asks, maybe a bit too quick.  
   
Koichiro levels him with look of vague bewilderment as he tilts his head to the side. “You, obviously.”  
   
Later, Yusaku will invent a much different version of this moment, one where he reacts just like the cool, suave, incredibly interesting guy everyone knows him to be. But in reality, overcome by a touch of _inexplicable_ weakness, what actually happens is this: he makes a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He sinks down slow so that he is crouched there with his wrists resting on his knees, staring pointedly at the tiled floor, heart thudding overloud in his chest.  
   
“You,” he says, and breaks off, blinking up at Koichiro with what he assumes must be an expression of pure alarm. “Do you get what you’re saying?”  
   
Koichiro’s confusion is beginning to taper off into blatant annoyance. “Of course,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “Did you really not know? Chisato said you wouldn’t, but I thought I made it pretty obvious.”  
   
Okay, he thinks, remembering in vivid detail the hiss and pop of sparklers, Koichiro’s arm pressed warm against his, his smile as he says _you should come back down to Earth again soon._ Maybe, in retrospect, he should’ve seen this coming.  
   
“I’m too old for you,” he says lamely.  
   
“You’re twenty-six, Hayakawa-san.”  
   
“Exactly! That’s – that’s a whole seven years older. That’s…” His voice fades away as he takes in Koichiro’s unimpressed expression.  
   
“I’m not asking you to date me, if the idea bothers you so much,” he says, sounding a bit hurt. “I just think it’s best to be upfront about these things.” Here he seems to snap back into workplace professionalism in an instant, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. “Now, don’t forget we’re having a staff brainstorming session for the new project first thing tomorrow morning. Good night, Hayakawa-san.”  
   
And at that he turns and leaves without another word, with Yusaku still crouched there like a fool in the middle of the empty observation deck.  
   
  
   
  
   
He spends the next morning staring at his computer screen without really seeing anything on it. Blueprints and calculations blend together into a jumble of blurry lines and errant numbers. Every once in a while he can feel Koichiro eyeing him suspiciously, and pretends to be hard at work for a minute before his gaze inevitably goes all unfocused again.  
   
After an hour and a half of this he’s too restless and on-edge to sit still any longer.  
   
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he mutters, and tries not to notice the knowing look that Izumo and Hoshihara exchange.  
   
It’s not like anyone can really get on his case, can they, when his “frustration activity” of choice is running laps around the station’s onboard track. He’s staying in shape, isn’t he? More than most of his wispy nerd coworkers can say for themselves. Though admittedly he does sometimes get a little too into it – like now, for instance, as he slows to a jog and then to a halt, lungs burning, and checks his watch to realize he’s been at it for thirty minutes straight.  
   
“Hayakawa-san,” a voice yells, echoing across the high-ceilinged track room, and he turns with a wince to see Koichiro standing in the doorway. “You said you’d be back in a bit and this is definitely more than a bit!”  
   
“A bit is an unspecified amount,” Yusaku shouts back.  
   
“It’s generally agreed-upon to be no more than fiftee – are you listening to me?”  
   
“Sorry, can’t hear you,” he calls over his shoulder, as he starts into yet another lap around the track.  
   
It takes a few moments for the sound of another set of feet hitting the floor to fully register, and for him to realize: Koichiro has left his labcoat hanging on the doorknob and is attempting to chase him down. He could just cut across the track, of course, but maybe that’s too dishonest an approach for him, as he seems to be treating this as if it were a genuine race. Not very successfully, though. Each time Yusaku glances back Koichiro seems to be lagging farther behind, until he doesn’t have to glance back at all.  
   
Soon he laps him altogether. And then laps him again.  
   
“Are you really this out of shape?” he asks, incredulous, slowing his pace to match Koichiro’s weak jog. He’s breathing rather heavily, glaring at Yusaku rather intensely, and looks as if he might have a painful stitch in his side. “Shouldn’t an earnest guy like you be all about the body being a temple or whatever?”  
   
“Of course I am,” Koichiro says hotly. He stops, then, hunched over with his hands on his knees as he tries to get his breath back, before lifting his eyes to continue glowering. A few strands of hair have been shaken loose from his usual sensibly slicked-back style, and Yusaku once again finds himself thinking the word ‘cute.’ “In high school I did morning exercises every day! And – and I played a lot of tennis with my dad. It’s just. At the academy, I kind of… had too many other things to think about. You know?”  
   
Yusaku raises an eyebrow. “Are you telling me,” he says slowly, “that for once in your life you slacked off on something?”  
   
Koichiro makes a pained face. “You don’t have to put it like that,” he says, with a pleading hint to his voice.  
   
Yusaku blinks. When he laughs – sharp, astonished, tinged with something that sounds like _relief_ even to his own ears – it seems to catch Koichiro off guard. Even moreso when Yusaku reaches out a hand without thinking to pat him on the cheek ( _just a friendly gesture of empathy, really_ , is what he’ll tell himself later), letting his palm linger there for a split second too long. By the time he realizes and yanks his hand back Koichiro is looking faintly pink.  
   
“That’s,” Yusaku begins, but has no idea what he was intending to say. “Let’s just. Get back. To the lab.” He clears his throat. “Guess I am kind of stretching the definition of ‘a bit.’”  
   
He can still feel Koichiro’s eyes on him as he turns stiffly on his heel and heads for the locker room.  
   
  
   
  
   
It’s several days later that he passes by Koichiro’s dorm room on his way to the commissary to find the door thrown wide open, various bits of luggage leaning against the wall. A pang of alarm jolts through him as he peers inside. Koichiro seems hard at work wiping down a bookshelf with a dustrag, and Yusaku raps his knuckles against the doorframe to get his attention.  
   
“Someone leaving?” he asks.  
   
Koichiro’s eyes brighten as he glances up at him. “Oh, Hayakawa-san. It’s my roommate, actually. He’s heading back to the Academy for a while to work on one of his tech qualifications.”  
   
“Ah.” There it is again, he thinks: that inexplicable feeling of relief. “And you’re, what? Helping him clean his stuff? Seriously?”  
   
“Of course,” Koichiro says with a frown. “He’s a nice person and he’s been very hospitable. It’s only right that I should do my part.”  
   
Yusaku shakes his head. “I would’ve tossed my first roommate out of the airlock if I could’ve gotten away with it,” he mutters. He steps in and glances around appraisingly. “They’ve really spruced these dorms up since I was in one. You’ve got it pretty good, y’know.”  
   
He meanders over and flops down on to Koichiro’s bed. Comfier sleeping arrangements than he remembers, too. They’re really coddling these new kids.  
   
There is a long stretch of quiet, in which Yusaku stares up at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds of Koichiro rummaging through desk cabinets and humming off-key as he cleans. And then:  
   
“Hayakawa-san.”  
   
“Hm?”  
   
“Are you actually against the idea of dating me?”  
   
Yusaku sits up very fast. “ _What_ ,” he says – more a statement than a question.  
   
“I mean,” Koichiro says, standing there with a feather duster in one hand and a contemplative expression. “If what I said back then actually bothered you, you probably wouldn’t be here right now.”  
   
Yusaku opens his mouth and then closes it again wordlessly.  
   
“I was thinking,” Koichiro continues, “that maybe you’re just put-off by me being a bit inexperienced. In which case,” here his smile is bright, “you have no need to worry. I’ve been studying up.”  
   
He crosses the room to slide open the drawer of his bedside table, removing a book and presenting it to Yusaku proudly as he takes a seat next to him. Yusaku accepts it after a moment of hesitation, turning it around in order to read the title: _Modern Relationships And Romance In The Information Age_. Blinking, he flips to a random page to find a section espousing ‘short, simple sentiments to send your significant other via pager.’ Another section seems to be attempting to explain various dating scenarios via BBS lingo and ASCII art.  
   
“It’s been very informative so far,” Koichiro is saying. “There’s a whole chapter detailing – hey!”  
   
Yusaku tosses the book over his shoulder with a noise of disgust, where it hits the headboard with a _thunk_ and disappears down the crevice between the bed and wall.  
   
“I spent 1800 yen on that,” Koichiro protests.  
   
“Listen,” Yusaku says. He presses a hand to his heart and plasters on a magnanimous smile that feels at-odds with his pulse hammering away in his throat. “Forget about books. If you need instruction in – in any of that stuff, then I will take it upon myself to teach you. Alright?”  
   
Koichiro’s eyes widen. “Hayakawa-san,” he says, voice thick with emotion, before surging forward to kiss him square on the lips.  
   
It could be worse, is Yusaku’s first thought. Koichiro tastes like mint and smells like dust and Magiclean, and though he clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing, he has enough sheer enthusiasm on his side to sort of make up for it. Still, Yusaku’s not about to go back on his word. He cups Koichiro’s face in his hands – why is his skin so soft what the hell _what the hell_ – and pushes him away gently.  
   
“Okay,” he says, an odd, strangled quality to his voice. “That was – a start. Your technique could use some work, though. Sometimes it’s best to be a little more, uh. Patient. Like…”  
   
He moves his hand haltingly to palm the back of Koichiro’s neck. When he leans in to kiss him he hesitates for a moment, skin prickling from the anticipation before closing the gap to press their lips together slow and deliberate. Koichiro makes a contented noise and reaches out to curl his fingers into the fabric of Yusaku’s labcoat and –  
   
Oh, he thinks, the tension melting from his shoulders. He wonders why he’s spent all these weeks not doing this. Why he’s been so wrapped up in pointless standoffishness and worries. He can’t even remember what was stopping him, really.  
   
Distantly, he hears someone clear their throat.  
   
They break apart and Yusaku turns resignedly to see someone – Koichiro’s roommate, he’s sure – standing in the doorway looking far too amused for his own good.  
   
“Oh, Takuya,” Koichiro says cheerily. “I found some more of your things in the cabinets when I was cleaning. I put them over there.”  
   
“Thanks, Koichiro,” the roommate – Takuya – says, hiding a snicker behind his hand. He grabs his pile of belongings from the table and turns to leave again, pausing in the doorway to shake his head. “Man. You only start having fun once I move out, huh? I guess that’s something. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”  
   
And at that he lifts a hand in parting and vanishes down the hall.  
   
“Nice, isn’t he?” Koichiro says, as conversational as ever.  
   
Still staring at the empty doorway, Yusaku bares his teeth in a wry smile. “Yeah,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle Koichiro’s hair enough that it elicits a ‘hey’ of protest. “You better hope your next roommate is that understanding, too.”  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
“Are you sure you should be showing me this? Isn’t this, like… against policy?”  
   
“That’s what I said,” Koichiro chimes in.  
   
Yusaku lowers his sketchbook and glares, disbelieving, at the fuzzy image of Chisato onscreen. “Seriously? You’re both gonna be like this?” He twists around to frown at Koichiro in turn. “She’s your best friend, idiot. Where’s your faith, huh? You think she’s about to sell my designs on the black market or something?”  
   
Koichiro purses his lips. “Of course not. It’s just a simple matter of security clearance. Hers expired several months ago – ”  
   
“The day I care about security clearance is a cold day in hell,” Yusaku says, jabbing a finger in Koichiro’s direction for emphasis. He shakes his head and turns back to Chisato, who seems vaguely amused by this back-and-forth. “Well? It’s gonna be good, right? This’ll be the next big thing in space exploration, I can feel it.”  
   
Her answering smile is genuine. “I think it’ll be incredible,” she says. “But. Uh. What happened? You didn’t exactly seem inspired last time I talked to you.”  
   
Yusaku falls silent for a moment. He glances sidelong at Koichiro, who is sitting on the edge of his bed and flipping through the prototype blueprints with a kind of enthusiastic pride, occasionally pausing to scribble down a note or two in the margin. Yusaku watches him for maybe five seconds too long, a tight feeling in his throat.  
   
He returns his attention to the video chat screen hurriedly, lifting his hands in a show of smug nonchalance. “I’m a genius, Chisato,” he says with a grin. “It’s only natural.”


End file.
